Creep
by Pyromaanii
Summary: "I know many things about you, that you think no one else knows. That even Walter does not know, and you tell him lots of things. Your troubles and your worries and your doubts. I would never admit it to you, but you trust him over me, and I can't help but feel jealous. Though, I suppose, I had brought this upon myself." Two-shot.
1. Creep

_a/n: this is a... two-shot? Is that what they're called? Anyways, I published this on here almost a year ago, and then I deleted it, but I'm putting it back up. There hasn't been any revisions made to it, though I don't know if anyone read it the first time I put it up. I'd really appreciate reviews, since that was actually why I deleted it the first time (the lack of any acknowledgement of it discouraged me). _

_I've realized that the fic might be confusing because of the narration style. It is narrated by Alucard, and he is basically narrating to Integra. (Just for the clarification. I thought it might confuse some people). _

_Well, here it is. Enjoy._

* * *

_Creep. _

Even after all these years, you still never know when I actually leave your presence, or when I choose to stay in it.

I know many things about you, that you think no one else knows. That even Walter does not know, and you tell him lots of things. Your troubles and your worries and your doubts. I would never admit it to you, but you trust him over me, and I can't help but feel jealous. Though, I suppose, I had brought this upon myself.

Some of these things I know leave me giddy with excitement. I don't understand why. Because most of these things are so _human._ I suppose that is why they excite me. You partake in these _human, mundane _actions and yet you are ashamed of them, even though you take such pride in _being _human.

Or, at least, you _say_ you do.

I watch you do all sorts of things. For instance, you are infatuated with your father, and this you are almost ashamed of. Often, and I suppose you do this in the middle of the night so no one will know, you like to look at the very few photos you have of your father. Some nights, you will only look at them for a few minutes. Other nights, I have seen you stare at them for hours.

I know of your drinking habit. I know that, most nights, you drink until you pass out. You don't even bother using a glass now. I cannot tell you how many times you have fallen asleep with an empty liquor bottle in your hand. This issue Walter does know about, and he has bickered with you numerous times about it. But you are so stubborn. Everyone seems to forget that you make your own rules.

I'm always watching you, you know. I know of everything you do. Sometimes, I think you know, you just choose to push it to the back of your mind and try not to think about it. Often, after I have "left" your presence, I linger, in the shadows, and anticipate your delayed reaction to me. Frequently, after I have left, a strew of unladylike curses have left your mouth, and you knock over a few things and have a drink. Sometimes, out of sheer frustration, and if no one is around, you cry. This pains me, and it hurts much to watch, but I am so fascinated by you that I can never look away.

Often, I just want to hold you. I could only imagine what you would do then. I think the first stage would be shock. "My God! Affection!", you would recoil and curl up and maybe you would start to burn as if _you_ were a vampire and someone threw holy water on you. I know physical contact bothers you much. For instance, you even have a hard time shaking hands with people. So, as much as I _would _like to embrace you, I would not, even though I think your reaction would be quite comical.

What upsets me the most, is that just because I know all these things, does not mean I am close to you. At all. Whatsoever. And I suppose that is what I have sought after the most. Is to be close to you. Mentally, emotionally, physically. I just long to be close to you. I long for you. I need you. Which is hard to admit, because I'd like to think that I don't need anything. Or anyone for that matter. But you have proven me wrong, like you have proven me wrong with many a things. You wouldn't ever think it, or know it, but I give you much more credit than you think I do. I'm so sorry I have led you to disbelieve that.

Right now, I am watching you, as I blend in with the shadows of a dark corner of your office. Your head is in your hand and you are falling asleep. There's a cigar hanging out of the corner of your mouth, still lit, and it is piling ashes. Your head slowly starts to slide away from your hand, and startled by the movement, you bolt upright, and the seemingly inches of ashes flutter off the tip of your cigar and into your lap.

"Fuck-"

I want to laugh, and actually have to bite my lip to keep from doing so.

You sigh and you just sit there, not moving, calculating in your head what to do. This confuses me, because you only have so little options. I feel like coming out of the shadows and offering assistance, but I do not. I watch you slowly take off your gloves and you wipe the ashes off of your lap, and they drift onto the floor. Your pants are ruined with the substance.

You put out your cigar, and you check the clock on your desk. Yes, it is late. I see frustration flit across your face. You are not even close to being done with your work, but you are already so exhausted, you just want to sleep. From my observations, I have pulled together you have not been doing that much. Sleeping. I have spent hours, watching you spend hours, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling and wondering where you went wrong with so many things and why you have been "graced" with the life you have. You wallow in self-loathing most nights. This is another thing no one else but myself knows about, and I think you would just close yourself off from me even more, if you knew that I knew.

I follow you as you leave your office. You don't go straight to your bedroom. Instead, you take detours. All the lights are off, and you wander around in the dark. When I find myself inside your head, you are not really thinking about anything. All I can hear is you commanding your body to move and breathe. Frequently, you stop at rooms and look inside them, then close the door. Almost like you are looking for something. I listen in on you again to see if I can find out what, but I come to nothing. Your head is almost literally filled with nothing. This concerns me.

This concerns me because you are _always _thinking about something. Anything. You always have _something _on your mind. You, of course, just don't tell anyone what it is. But, I know. I always know.

Just not tonight.

It takes what seems like _hours _for you to finally arrive to your bedroom. Once you close the door behind you, I do not follow you inside. This, I hate to admit, is unusual of me. Often, I follow you into your room, and I watch you until you fall asleep. But, tonight, I have pulled myself out of the shadows, I am standing outside your bedroom door, and I am hesitating to come inside.

Maybe you should invite me in.

But you won't, because I am a creep, and you don't even know I have been watching you and following you these past hours they seem to be.

I actually stand here and begin to wring my hands. I am nervous. I gently lay my head against the door, my ear pressed against it. I hear you moving around the room, getting ready for bed. I can hear you undressing. Oh, how I long to be in there to watch, but I am not. Why am I torturing myself?

My hand is flat against the smooth surface of the door, next to my head. I watch my hand ball up into a fist. I think I am going to knock on your door. But I don't know why I would do that. I have nothing to say to you. However, if you opened the door and saw me standing here, you'd have much to say to me. Though it would only be about how inconsiderate I am, bothering you at this hour, how did I know you were going to be in your room, I need to respect your privacy, I will say something witty in response, you will try to hurt me in some way, I lead you to believe I am unaffected; I am a monster.

As I continue to listen, I gather you have not succumbed to sleep yet. I bite my lip in hesitation.

I knock on your door.

Jesus fuck, I am like some hormonal teenage boy, picking up his recent fling for some date, or whatever it is teenage boys do nowadays. I'm not so concerned about that right now. I'm concerned about the confused feeling that is rising in you at the sound of hearing a knock. I know you are sitting in bed, waiting to hear it again, to see if you were just hearing things, or if someone is really knocking on your door.

So I bite my lip harder, and I do it again.

I hear a soft, "Oh," I actually cannot tell if you are frustrated or simply confused. I hear some rustling and something being placed on your bedside table and then a sigh. You're too tired. You don't want to get out of bed.

"Just- come in." You sound irritated, and I am still nervous. I can't believe I am capable of such a human emotion.

I slowly open your door. You're sitting up in bed, and you look thoroughly confused. Probably because you cannot see, so you fumble around on your bedside table and turn on the lamp. The second light floods the room your eyebrows furrow down and your eyes slant and your lips pull into that adorable pout that you always get on your face when I am in your presence.

"Alucard-? What the hell are you doing?" I am surprised that right away you did not yell at me to get out.

I'm also surprised that I am not doing what I normally would, and that would be to irritate you as much as I possibly can. Instead, I am not even grinning at you, like I normally would. I am just standing there. Staring at you.

I really am a creep, aren't I?

Go ahead, you can say it.

But, after seconds of silence pass, I see your face relax. Now this, _this _I have never witnessed before. Ever. Your eyebrows go up in concern, your eyes widen fractionally, and your mouth opens to say something, you just don't know what.

"Alucard," You begin, sliding out from under the covers.

I am, what is that expression you humans use? Ah, yes, like a deer caught in headlights. Because you are walking towards me, and there is only so much distance between us. I can feel how uncomfortable you are, so I don't know why you are doing this. I know that I always have made you uncomfortable.

"Alucard, I asked you a question." you stop about five feet away from me. This is even making _me _uncomfortable.

"I-"

"You?"

"I-"

"Alucard?"

"I'm sorry."

"Well, you should be. Haven't I sent you out for a mission tonight?"

"I don't believe so."

You cross your arms across your chest, and with one swift movement of your head you swing all you hair over your shoulder. This simple action makes you look so damn graceful. I am amazed.

"I thought I did. What do you want? Why have you shown up at my room?"

Maybe I should come clean.

"I need to tell you something-" I begin, my eyes straying away from you to look around your room. It is very messy. Cluttered. Open books lying on the floor and papers on the other side of your bed and stacks of other books and papers are strewn everywhere, along with ashtrays, piled with ashes. Clothes thrown wherever. Messy messy messy.

"What do you need to tell me at two in the morning?" My eyes snap back to you.

"A lot of things. But tonight, only one thing."

You sigh, and back up, and sit on the edge of your bed, and you cross your legs.

There is a thick silence between us, and it feels like a few minutes pass by.

"Well?" You ask, annoyed. You are so annoyed. "Alucard, I don't have time for this. I am tired. I want to go to sleep. If you are just going to stand there and stare at me, then get out."

I'm surprised you haven't told me to get out the second I showed up in here.

"I just needed to tell you that- I have been- for a very long time, I have been-" I'm almost stuttering.

I'm incredibly taken aback by the patience you have right now for me.

"I watch you."

You tense up. Visibly, you tense up.

"Excuse me?"

"I watch you."

"You watch me?"

"Yes, when you think I am not there. I watch you."

I can't tell what emotion is plastered onto your face.

"What the hell does that mean? You, 'watch' me?"

My eyes drift to the floor.

"I hide in whatever room you are in, and I just watch you. For as long as I can."

I am so surprised by how calm you are staying. Or maybe you are in shock.

"...And... Why do you do that? Why are you telling me this now?"

"Are you angry?"

"Of course I am angry! How could I not be angry?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I do this... because I would like to know more about you."

Disbelief overtakes the expression on your face. "You would?"

"Yes."

"I can't take you seriously, right now."

"You should."

"But I can't."

"I feel that the more I know about you-" I am trying to evade being sent out, "The closer I can get to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

You are very quiet. You push your glasses up a bit and hold your arms tighter. I can hear your unsteady breathing. I try not to get inside your head. I don't want to ruin here what I barely have, and that is the patience you have for me right now. This patience, though you have very little of it, is the most patience you have ever had for me, I think.

"You want to be close to me." You state, more than ask, and I nod. I nod and I am afraid.

"Well, Alucard, it would be easy for you to do that, if you weren't such a fucking asshole."

And there it is.

"Honestly. _Honestly._ It is not that hard but you push me and you push me and you _push _me. You get inside my head, which is absolutely goddamn _infuriating- _and you say the most absurd things, and most of the time you are just outrageously _annoying_-"

A small smile makes way onto my face.

"...And now you are smiling. God dammit, get the hell out! I do not have time for you right now. _You 'watch me'._ Dammit- If I ever catch you- I'm blowing your head off, do you understand?"

"You're not listening to me, are you?"

"Of course I am listening to you!"

"I just want to be close to you."

Your mouth is set in a thin line. You are frustrated, but most of all, you are confused. I practically sigh in relief when the expression on your face softens; your whole body relaxes, your shoulders slope down a little and the grip you have on your arms is gone completely, your arms falling and your hands coming to rest in your lap.

"I really don't understand what you are trying to tell me."

"I'm telling you that I watch you, when you think I am not, because then I see you do things you don't do in front of me- that you don't do in front of _anyone_\- and I knew eventually you would find out about it, but I did not imagine you'd find out like _this_, and, I- _I just want to be close to you._" I breathe out, this unnecessary thing that I do every once in a while.

You stand up, arms laying limp at your sides, hair swaying behind you for a fraction of a second before laying still. I almost wince as I wait for what you are going to do next.

A hand comes up and combs through your hair and pushes it back, and then rests at the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your beautiful locks. You're staring at the floor, eyes blinking every once so often.

"So that's it, hm?"

I tense a little when I hear you speak, as if I did not know it was coming.

"Yes, I suppose," I reply.

"We're going to have to settle this somehow."

"And how do we do that?"

I glance at you in just enough time to catch you doing something I have never seen you do before- you are pursing your lips, in a mocking manner.

"I suppose... I suppose that, perhaps, we can start to spend some time with each other. If all you want- if all you want is to 'be closer' to me. I'd like that. Maybe, because, I'd like to be a little closer to you."

We both look at each other at the same exact moment.

I think my heart began to beat when a small smile came onto your face.


	2. Thirst

_Thirst. _

Tonight, I have an insatiable thirst.

I've tasted you before. So delicious, your blood was. You have no idea the lengths I would go to to just have a taste, just a _taste _of your blood again. But I cannot go to those lengths. No matter what I could do, I would most likely get caught doing it. But oh, Master, nobody's blood could even _compare _to yours. I _need _yours. It's one of those things you could never understand about me, so it is one of those things I will keep from you for an eternity and more.

Ah, here we are again. Remember recently, not too long ago, I told you I watch you? Well, honestly how could you forget?

Well, you see, I'm doing it again, even though you have told me not to. But, you had said, I could just knock on your door and if you felt like it, you would let me in.

Even into your bedroom.

I was delighted-

But scared. Nervous. Icky human emotions these are. I can't believe you can possibly make me feel this way.

Well, anyways, I'm stuck in the shadows of the open door of your closet. Why am I in here? This much is obvious. So I can smell your clothes. It's the closest I can get to you, without actually getting to you. Of course you do not know I am in here. I am positive I could not knock on your door and ask, "Sir Integra, may I root through your clothes and smell them? Possibly take a few articles of clothing? 'Why?' You ask? Well, you see, I get off on your scent..." No I could never do that. Ever. I have a feeling I would actually end up dead. The only part that would bother me about finally being dead is not being able to be around you anymore.

How romantic.

My pants are feeling incredibly tight as I sniff one of your (I imagine) extremely pricey button down shirts. I'm also watching you while I do it. You're sat up in bed, reading. I do not have any idea what you are reading. I'm reading the title, and it is nothing I have ever heard of. Judging by the picture on the cover, it is something political. I almost laugh.

But I don't, and instead move on from the shirt I was sniffing and onto a pair of your pants. Oh, and shame they have been washed. I'll have to wait till you are asleep to root through your dirty clothes.

We've established this before- I am a creep.

Minutes are passing. You're still stuck on that book. You're also smoking a cigar. I don't understand how the smoke does not obstruct your eyesight and deter you from reading, there is so much of it. Or maybe it does begin to, and that is why you set down your book for a second, to stub out your cigar.

You stare off into space instead of continuing your book. I have pulled away from your clothing to watch you intently. You idly start playing with your hair, before squinting off into the distance. I follow your path of eyesight. You are squinting at the door?

I look back to you, and you have placed a bookmark in your book and set it on your bedside table. I let out as quiet a sigh as I can, because you are going to sleep. You turn off your lamp and slide down under the covers and place your glasses onto your nightstand.

I slowly come out of the shadows of your closet and am daring enough to stand just beside your bed. Your eyes are closed, so I'm not worried about you seeing me. However, as I mosey around a bit in your head, I realize, you are not falling asleep. You are actually wide awake.

My eyes are gazing into you so intensely that I'm afraid you'll actually realize I am there.

I see rustling under the covers.

Your hand is-

Sliding into your underwear.

I panic, taking a step back, almost bumping into your nightstand. I watch, your head falls back into the pillows, and your mouth opens and a very quiet moan slips out.

I don't know what to do. I stand there with my mouth agape, my hands dumbly laying at my sides, watching. My fangs have elongated. I just want to jump onto you and-

I shake that thought from my head.

I watch the movement of your hand beneath the sheets, slow and rhythmical as you roll your hips. Of all the times I have watched you, I have never watched you do _this_. In fact, I didn't even know you did this. I always figured you were caught up in too many other things to ever take care of yourself... _this way_.

Watching you please yourself is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I'm in awe as you roll over onto your stomach, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. The sheets fall off of you, and you don't even seem to notice, because your hand is becoming more frantic in between your legs. And as your hand becomes more frantic, my mind becomes more frantic. I stand here wondering what I should do, and soon it becomes evident. Off go my clothes, and as soon as I begin to crawl onto the bed, you gasp and sit up, whipping your head into my direction, frightened. You're about to say something, and I clamp a hand over your mouth, my other hand clamping onto your right hip, and I pull you flush against me as I whisper, "I'm only here to help."

At the sound of my voice, you freeze, and I pull my hand away from your mouth, only to slowly slide it down your body, and the moan that comes from between your lips allures me. I slip my hand between your legs, rubbing you almost teasingly. You shudder, your head falling back between my neck and shoulder.

"God dammit, Alucard," I can tell you are trying to protest against my actions, but I'm not having it tonight.

I move my hand a little faster, my fingers becoming slick from the wetness that is dripping out of you. My right hand comes up from your hip, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging lightly as I kiss down your neck. Your mouth is hanging open as moans emit from you, getting louder as I rub faster. A dark blush spreads across your face as you reach between us, grabbing a hold of my hardened cock. I'm surprised by this, but deeply pleased, and I release a predatory growl as you begin to stroke me.

We move erratically against each other, the pace of your hand quickening, your hold starting to constrict. My head comes to rest on your shoulder, my mouth mere inches away from your delicate throat. It is then I realize my horrible mistake- the thirst I had coming in here is now tenfold what it was before. The control I thought I had is slipping out of my grasp.

Tonight, I have an insatiable thirst.

I begin to push away from you, only to have you pull me back.

"Don't you dare stop, Alucard," You let out in a breathy tone, and I can't help it, I-

I sink my teeth into your throat.

Not my fangs, my teeth. All of them.

It takes you a few moments to register what has happened. Finally, gasping in sheer horror, your hands come up to push at my chest. This does nothing. I only sink my teeth in further, my arms circling around your body, trying to hold you still as you squirm and writhe, trying to free yourself from my hold. I can hear you whimper, your hands clawing at my own, trying to pry my fingers off of you.

"Alucard, Alucard- please, stop!" You are begging, and I finally get a grip, and I pull my mouth away from you, releasing you from my arms. You gasp, you almost sob, and you fall forward onto the bed, your hands clambering up to your throat. When you pull them away, and you see all the blood, I see tears beginning to come down your face.

"Alucard," You cry, "Alucard, what did you do?"

You look back at me, and our eyes lock onto each other. Your icy blues, usually fierce and determined, are instilled with terror, and in the same instant, disappointment. Your arms fall limp into your lap. Blood is almost covering you completely, and has begun to coagulate in your beautiful platinum tresses.

You are whimpering out incoherent sentences.

"...You do... What did you... What did you do?"

Your lips are quivering, tears are still running out of your eyes. I can only stare, frozen by your irises.

As the seconds fly by and turn into minutes, your tears have stopped running, and the terror and disappointment drain from your eyes, and they become lifeless and dull. Through all these changes, your eyes remain bound to me. You have stopped blinking. You are a lifeless doll, covered in your worst fear, and paralyzing your disappointment.

Your blood, which I have spent years longing for, leaves an awful taste in my mouth.

"_Alucard, what did you do?" _

My head falls into my hands.

_Integra, what did I do?_


End file.
